Asking them how to do it

Back on the dark side of the moon

Food from the New York Mall in Flushing

It’s funny. When I don’t write for a while, it’s either because I’ve got a lot going on or nuthin at all.

It’s been busy here but hard to explain with what.

After you’ve taken yourself outta society, it takes a while to reintegrate.

Saw some friends a little while back for a lunch out in Queens at the New York Food Court. PB was there as was my brother and several other people I knew and didn’t know.

Alison was alive the last time I saw them all. Just like everyone else I’ve seen. It’s a hard thing to think about.

My brother and I have a somewhat rare quirk in that we have very close female friends who are simply that: Female friends.

His best friend is female and was there for lunch. She was the woman in this entry where I hoped I’d never face the kind of tragedy she did. That didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.

I spoke to her after everything went down. Asked her how she survived the blow.

As an aside, I met another woman this past week who lost both her parents in her teens and asked the same question. But that’s another story for another time.

In any case, no one ever really has an explanation. People just survive, somehow.

I’m surviving somehow, I think. With the help of some good souls.

Her: I hear about you meeting up with all these women, when are you going to ask me for a friend date?
Me: You wouldn’t like the cost of admission.
Her: Ewww, gross, Logan!
Me: (laughing) You know who and what I am. But I’ll see you again soon enough, I’m sure.

In that good souls entry, the horrible event I alluded to was the loss of yet another pregnancy for Alison and me.

I wish everything was different.

Ah, goddammit. I’m back here again.

Location: back on the dark side of the moon
Mood: back on the dark side of the moon
Music: Are you at it again? I think you hold your heart too close to the vest
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Pillowcases

Doing things I gotta but don’t wanna, for reasons I never expected


I don’t know where my pillowcases go.

Alison always did the laundry, folded everything, and put everything away. It wasn’t because it was woman’s work, it’s just that she liked her laundry done a certain way. That was the deal: She did what she was good at and/or wanted to do and I did the same.

I did almost all the cooking, she did almost all the cleaning. It was perfect: She hated to cook, I hated to clean.

When I told my mom that she passed, my mom cried, of course. But she also said, It’s so sad. You were so perfect for each other. You two were the same person.

That’s true. She was a complete person when we met. I was a complete person when we met. But when we got together, while we were complete, we were better. It’s why she was my person.

And now I’m worse. I’m doing things I gotta but don’t wanna, for reasons I never expected.

That’s why every little thing hurts so. It’s like someone took my left arm away.

Did the laundry two days ago. A mountain of it. Folded it as she would have liked. Kinda. And put away what I could. Had to call my mother-in-law to find out where to put the pillowcases and other things.

I’m a stranger to things in my own house.

Which is apropos, I suppose; everything is stranger in general.


My dad is not well. Wish I could see him more often but I can’t leave the kid and don’t want to bring him to the hospital.

And the truth be told, I don’t have the mental and emotional capacity to face that right now. I know I’ll have to at some point.

For now, trying to be as normal as I can for the kid.

Whatever that means.

Location: my strange home
Mood: the same
Music: You got a beautiful soul that I’m blessed to have known
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Best friends forever

I married Alison for her money

When we chatted about my theft, she noted that the amount that was taken was almost exactly the sum of what she had at the time.

Told her that the thing that bothered me most about the theft was what the money represented. Being a busboy in a Chinese restaurant. Walking home instead of spending the buck it took for the bus. Going to the library for textbooks instead of buying them.

And I told her that knowing that she had money made me like her more. Because she lived simply. She drove a Civic. She had roommates. She still used the same television she bought in college – something I mocked her for, relentlessly.

That’s when I told her that I thought she and I would be great together if we got serious.

Her: So, you want to be with me for my money?
Me: (laughing) Sure. It’s not the money but what the money represents. Self-discipline, planning, priorities, etc. (winking) I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll spend our entire relationship trying to get at it.
Her: (smiling) At least you’re honest.

The kid came back on Sunday so I’ve been sober since then. Yesterday, gathered up the courage to go to her bank and close out her account.

Thought about what I said her all those years ago and felt gross. So gross that I took a shower and broke down in it.

Afterward, created an online account for everything from her that I’m gonna use for the kid. Because I want none of it.

He’ll get everything she worked so hard and sacrificed for. Because her money represents the sum of her life’s effort and sacrifice.

And the kid represents the sum of all her hopes and dreams.

Even in death, she’ll take care of him. Cause she loved him even before he existed. It’s why I married her.

Right after he was born…

Her: Oh, I love him. Look at all that hair! (beaming) Isn’t he beautiful?
Me: (solemnly) This whole thing is beautiful.
Her: (looking at him) We’re gonna be best friends, you and me. Best friends forever. (kisses him)

I’ll be shutting down the YouCaring page soon. It’s time to try pull myself together and put myself back into the stream of life.

No idea how I’m gonna do it, but I will. It’s what she woulda wanted.

Location: Soberville. It sucks here.
Mood: heartbroken
Music: people always wave goodbye and say hello
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